Daily story, June 2, 2025

“I bet those ships you dreamed of weren’t so rough, eh?” he said. I leaned on the rail and thought about it. The ships I dreamed of were rough; the seas stormy; the nights cold. I was seasick and injured and almost went overboard. We were becalmed and boarded and shipwrecked. What made them dreams was knowing that, however much I dreamed that I might die, they could not kill me. “It’ll be rougher yet,” he said, and I held on to that: a crueller sea to dream of.